Thursday, 12 May 2016

Paullina Nichols - Sex Lies & Fruit Flies - Virtual Book Tour

Paranormal / New Adult Romance
Date Published: January 1, 2016

Beaten. Broken. Damaged. 

Morgan's life isn't hers and as far as her tribe is concerned, it never will be. Love wasn't for her. She served one purpose. Look beautiful and make babies. That was until she ran. 

All is well with her new life of solitude until Wyatt comes along. Who told him to come into her hospital bloody and beautiful? Never had a human been so irresistible. 

Arrogant, rugged, gorgeous Detective Wyatt threatens her new existence without pity. He's used to getting what he wants from women and he doesn't expect her to be any different. He isn't used to playing by anyone else's rules including Morgan's. 

How wrong was he? She was dangerous to him. Being with her was suicide. Once word made it back to the tribe, they'd both be killed. 

Solitude or Love? 

Life or death? 

The choice was made. 

Excerpt I:
The skies darkened as the storm descended. Leland had run to check on our elderly neighbors for the last time before we sheltered in place. I watched him enter their house through one rain smeared window and kept a lookout for her in another. It was our chance to run. Mom and I had been planning for this and we had been perfecting our getaway ever since hurricane Katrina had put fear into the hearts of everyone along the eastern coastline. We weren’t even sure we would survive the swim, but we had to try.
Anxiety rippled through me as the rains fell angrily on our little island and the winds bent the palm trees nearly to the ground. I watched, making sure he was still with the neighbors as I waited for her call. Then I heard it. Mom yelped from the pier. I jumped up and peeked out the kitchen window. Leland was still preoccupied. I made a run for the front door buck naked. I had to get to the pier. I had to get to Mom. I was almost there when he saw me.
He yelled my name from the neighbors’ doorway. “Morgan!”
I refused to turn back.
Mom called my name louder. “Morgan!”
I was almost to her, almost to the pier. He was gaining on me. His feet grew louder as he came closer. My feet were louder, more urgent. I couldn’t figure out which hurt more, the stone rain pelting my bare skin or my bare feet hitting the wooden planks of the pier as I bolted for the rough dark waters. Then I felt his fingertips slide roughly from my shoulders down my back. I ran faster. He’d missed me, but not by far. He kept at it until my drenched, waist-length hair was within reach. “Gotcha!” He yanked me to the ground and started dragging me back toward our house. He didn’t say another word. He was used to me running, but this time was different.
I wasn’t going back. I yelped for Mom, kicking and screaming as I grasped at his hands, claws drawn. She came to my defense, jumping on his back and digging her claws deep into his flesh. He grunted and bucked, trying to shake her, but she stayed embedded in him until her poison seeped in and subdued him. He involuntarily released his grip on my hair as his body crashed to the soaked wooden planks.
She frantically helped me to my feet, almost falling in her efforts. My bloodied side didn’t slow us. We ran until the pier ended and dove headfirst into the angry ocean. Facing possible death was better than the existence we had there; Mom and I were sure. We took true form together, allowing the sea to fill our gills and heal my wounds. We swam wildly away from our hell side by side that night. We’d be hunted for this. It didn’t matter; there was no looking back.
Excerpt II:
I watched him as he drove. His face was tense, but even more beautiful than I remembered. Nearly a month without him seemed like forever. I could never get tired of those eyes, those lips, that hair. I could never get tired of him, of us. I didn’t want him to be upset, but he had every right to be. His world had been turned upside down since he’d met me, but he was still there. He still wanted me for whatever reason. Claire said we were drawn to each other; that was an understatement. Even with being sick I wanted him. I missed feeling the strength of him between my legs. I missed being wrapped in him.
“Wyatt I know you’re upset. You have every right to be. I have brought nothing but trouble and for that I am sorry. I am sorry I am sick and you have to carry me like a child. I am sorry that I have come between you and your father. I am sorry that I have upset your partner and brought my chaos to every aspect of your life. I’m so sorry you ever laid eyes on me.”
“Stop it.” His voice thundered in the small space. I jumped and his face softened. His grip loosened on the steering wheel. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. I told you that. I want to be with you. Morgan, I need to be with you. This proves it. I left you and look what happened. You’re sick and sad and I’ve been worthless since you’ve been gone. I went to your mom’s house a few times a week to check on her, but also because she reminded me so much of you. Sitting with her reminded me of you.” He reached for my hand and brought it to his warm lips. He kissed it gently and I shivered at the feeling. “Morgan we have to listen to each other. We knew we shouldn’t have been apart and we went against our better judgement.”
I held my gaze to the floor. “I agree, but I was just saying.”
“Well stop just saying. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Period.”
“You know I agree. I just want to stop running and hiding. Instead, you’re stuck hiding with me. It isn’t fair. Why should we have to hide that we’re in love? Why would your father hate that we’re in love?”
“Hey, can we not worry about him? You’re my concern, not him.”
“No. I can’t help it. Your mom said he is from St. Marcos. He is Aerwyna. Your mom said she isn’t. If he was all right with being with a human, why should he have issues with you and I?”
“We don’t know anything yet. I will talk to my mom about it later.”
Nichols / SEX LIES & FRUIT FLIES / 123
“No I know what your mom told me. She said your dad is from where I am from. She said he changed his identity, cut off his hair. She said he divorced her and took you with him to keep you and her safe. Did you know your dad was a native?”
“What? No, I didn’t know. My dad looks like a white guy with a bald head. I mean his eyebrows are dark, but I’ve never seen his hair. I don’t think you heard her right. My dad is not one of your people. Maybe she is confused.”
“Wyatt I think I heard her just fine. That is why those paintings seemed so familiar. He painted them and they are of places I swam near home. Your dad swam those same waters. He must have.” I was out of breath.
“Aerwyna men are sterile. Remember? My dad can’t be one of you. He and my mom had me. I don’t know what my mom meant, but that can’t be.”
He was right, our men couldn’t reproduce, but I knew what Claire had told me. I couldn’t argue this with him. It wasn’t the time. We were both emotionally drained and I was tired just talking. This wouldn’t be the last he heard of this. He knew it too.
“Morgan, save your breath and rest. Please?” He looked at me with pleading eyes.
Why did he have to look at me like that? That look with those eyes pulled at the strings of my heart. I was sure he didn’t mean it the way I took it. I couldn’t help it when it came to him; I’d found that out the first time we met. I nodded in agreement. “Fine.”

He held my hand as he drove us back to Blacksburg. I faded in and out of sleep, losing track of time. I didn’t care as long as we were together.

Paullina has been writing and reading since she learned how. She is a volunteer literacy tutor for adult learners and believes knowing how to read can take you anywhere and everywhere you want to go. She enjoys writing romance with steamy scenes as that is what she enjoys reading.

You'll seldom find her without pen and paper as she prefers written words over typed any day. She was born and raised in Maryland about a mile away from Washington, D.C. and loves it. Other than writing and reading, her two children are the loves of her life and occupy her days while writing and reading occupy her nights. She loves good food and funny movies and hopes you enjoy reading her stories as much as she enjoyed writing them.

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Twitter: (@paullynichols)

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